Ninjas vs Zombies
by teawithmilk
Summary: [2012-verse] They say third time's a charm... When zombies begin to appear around Manhattan, it's up to the Turtles to try and put an end to the invasion before it's too late.
1. Prologue: 00:21

So, this takes way too many liberties with the plot of season 1, has nothing to do with NAA #3 (I had this mostly plotted and half-written way beforehand, oh well!), and is basically an excuse for me to write a dorky adventure while trying to figure out how a zombie invasion could actually fit into the TMNT universe.

I hope I did a decent enough job. I also don't own TMNT.

So, without further ado, I present to you all, the prologue for **Ninjas vs. Zombies**.

* * *

**Prologue: 00:21**

Donatello checked his phone before stepping silently down to the fire escape. _00:21_. "Are you sure you don't need me to..." he began tentatively, and told himself that it was just because of the October cold that he was stalling – he was a turtle, it wasn't healthy to go from a nice, warm room to a New York fall.

"Positive." April smiled. "Actually I think I have everything covered! Thanks, Donnie," she said, resting her hand on the window. "I'll call you tomorrow after the test!"

"Can't wait!" he replied – _too shrill, dummy! _- and took a step back, waiting to make sure she locked her window before he felt like he could leave. It wouldn't hold up three seconds against the Kraang, but at least it was something. "G'night, April."

_Okay now wave_, he told himself, -_not too fast! Make sure she's gone, check the perimeter... good. Go. _He dropped into the alley next to April's building, then faded himself into the shadows. Two buildings later, and he was back up on the rooftops, heading down Canal Street. They'd gotten lucky with April, really (and he wasn't just saying that because- look, he just wasn't, okay?). It was only about a fifteen minute sprint from her place back to the lair and the area was fairly residential. After midnight, the streets were pretty empty, and nobody ever looked up... and from here, he could see all the way to the Chrysler Building.

Leo (well, Splinter) had given him a 1AM curfew – but it was only another ten minutes back home (after maintaining all appropriate security precautions, of course) – so he figured he could take a minute or two just to himself, just to sit, just to _chill_. Where the ambient noise was a couple of police cars, the people in the apartments below, and nothing else.

No brothers threatening murder to other brothers. No brothers punching the stuffing out of a training dummy. No brothers arguing over the TV. Just himself, the city and an autumn moon-

-and the sound of smashing glass below.

He fell into a guard stance, pressing up against the support of a water tower and listened hard; the sound of slow, shuffling footsteps scratched up the alley walls. _Don't be Foot_, he pleaded silently, _PLEASE don't be Foot. Or Kraang. Or rats. Or-_

Something splattered below, followed by a very human, very miserable groan. He blinked. "Or _puking_?"

He peeped down, taking in the appearance of a tallish-looking white guy curled up on the floor with his face in a puddle of something gross-looking, and Donatello choked down to urge to laugh at himself.

_Shake it up, Donatello. You're _ninja_. You can't get freaked out by a drunk guy in an alley! _

Though that guy did _not_ sound well. And being passed-out alone in an alley when not at his best... he could not, in all good conscience, just leave the guy there. He weighed his options:

_Pro: the guy's probably drunk – who's gonna believe he got rescued by a giant turtle? _

_Con: I only have six fingers to count _all of the things that could go wrong._ Oh man. _

Three calculations later, and he dropped to the ground, unsleeving his bō from its holster on the back of his shell and readying it as he slid along the shadow.

"Hey," he hissed. "_Hey_. Uh. Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?" No reply. Crap. He inched closer, staff at the ready. The guy was shaking. _Don't be a seizure, _please _don't be a seizure_.

And then he was still.

_Oh man that was TOTALLY A SEIZURE_.

There was a payphone half a block away – right outside a convenience store, though, so that was out, and he really didn't want to risk calling 911 on his T-Phone. Hopefully the guy himself had one? It was worth a shot...

He poked the guy with his foot.

And nothing happened, and for a long moment, Donatello waited to see if the guy's chest rose with the soft rhythm of breathing.

Finally, he sucked in a slow, wet, rattling breath, and ever-so-slightly, Donatello leaned closer.

The guy lunged for his face.

Donatello screamed, throwing himself backwards, and when the guy missed, Donnie bucked to his feet and twisted, his leg sweeping out. Half-way up, the guy started to fall again, and Donatello finished it by slamming him back down with his bō braced across his shoulders. "What the _heck_ is your problem!?" he snarled. "I'm trying to help!"

A set of teeth snapped at him and he felt a sick twinge of recognition, before pushing it away - this guy's eyes were perfectly normal; bloodshot, not a sick, oily black. So, not Kraang then. So what...? "Aw, _gross_!" he snapped, tuning out of his thoughts and back into the street where, thoroughly pinned, the guy was now chewing at his bō. "I just got that!"

He tried to yank his weapon back, and only succeeded partially - the guy's teeth dragged a mouthful of the linen wrappings with him, the sound of tearing fabric filling the alley before the guy spat the linen out of his mouth and snapped his teeth at the turtle's green hand. Donatello had to force himself not to stare, almost willing the guy's to turn black so he could give this some kind of logical explanation outside of _NYC crazy_. This was all kinds of wrong – but he didn't have time to worry about that now. What he needed to do was run.

Twisting, he bucked himself up, making sure that he dropped the pressure on the guy's shoulders at the last second. Then, he threw himself up onto the fire escape, on to the roof, and pressed himself low. The guy staggered to his feet, looked around, spat and then, after a long, long look into the darkest part of the alley, turned back into the street and left.

When he was sure the coast was clear, he sat up cross-legged and inspected the damage to his bō. The guy's teeth had torn the linen – this he knew, but they had also chewed through the wood, leaving smooth indentations that were far too close to the switch that would snap out the blade.

He'd been lucky that the guy hadn't been chewing an inch further. Next time April wanted help studying, she could darn-well come to the lair.

_Aw, who'm I kidding_? he thought morosely. She could ask him to the middle of Central Park during high noon summer and he'd be there. Shaking his head, he slid his bō home and jumped the next building, taking two more turns before dropping down and sliding down a broken storm drain and into one of the southern tunnels; from here, it was a wet, stinking walk back up to station level.

_What the heck was with that guy_? he thought, and then, Raph in the back of his head: New York _is what's up with that guy. This town is ridiculous._

_City, actually_.

_Whatever. Get your scutes _home _already, dork._

When he finally got back, Leo met him with a warm smile, a hot cup of tea, and did not seem to notice the chew-mark at all.

* * *

tbc


	2. Monday, 21:25

turtles = not mine.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Monday, 21.25**

"Dude, can you _not _just get this from your computer."

"...it's defragmenting," Donatello replied absently, digging into whatever doohickey he was making this week. "Besides, you're the one who says I need to get out more. Pass me the number 1?"

"Yeah, I said _get out more_, not _watch the news instead of the hockey_."

Huffing, Raph slapped the screwdriver into Donnie's waiting hand and folded his arms, glaring at the peppy newsreader as she talked about some kind of Wall Street thing Raph didn't care about. Across the room, Mikey was upside-down on the couch reading some kind of comic book that Raph also didn't care about, and Leo was rolling April across his shell. Finally giving up on Donnie trying to bore the whole family _to death_, he shifted around, watching in interest as Leo did it again, depositing April in a blanket pile behind him. "Not bad, chief," he commented from the peanut gallery. "Did you tell her about the elbow thing?"

"Not yet," Leo replied, dropping out of his stance to move and fix April's, before nodding with a satisfied smile. "You want to try throwing me?" he offered her, and nodded at the pillow pile.

"That'd be great, but..." April shot him a lopsided smile. "You're kind of at least a hundred pounds heavier than me."

"So's every Purple Dragon."

"And Kraang," Raph put in, none too subtly, then hurled a throw cushion at Mikey's face when the little brat decided to add, "And Raph!" to the conversation. Leo smiled encouragingly, while in the background Donnie hunched over, glaring at the next news item - the President had once again ticked off the entire nation, or so it seemed; people were protesting and some pundit was making thinly-veiled comments about immigrants, and amid all of that, April finally nodded.

"Remember, use my weight against me - it's all about momentum," Leo said, backing up for a decent run. April planted her feet, holding her arms out. Leo made a tiny gesture to her - _little higher_ - before kicking off, taking a swing at April that she blocked, caught, and then twisted, and hurled him over her back.

"...whoa," April grinned. "Can we do it again?"

"On three," Leo agreed, then ran, landing annoyingly-perfectly on his feet before giving April a _not bad_ pat on her shoulder.

April grinned, rotating her shoulder. "So, what's the _elbow-thing_?" she asked, looking between Raph and Leo.

Leo very pointedly rolled his eyes. "It's not strictly fair _or_ legal in the martial arts sense, but _Raph_ likes to elbow people _in the spine_ whenever he gets the chance. Again?" he asked, then was abruptly cut off by the TV volume.

"_-spate of _biting _incidents along the East Side all the way up to Harlem have local residents demanding NYPD provide _free shots_-_"

"Guys, keep it down! I'm trying to watch this!"

Mikey cleared his throat loudly - "_Booooooo_ring." - and Raph rolled his eyes, tossing Mikey the remote over Donnie's squawking. "What do you expect? It's _Harlem_."

Leo cut a sharp glance as he rolled across April's back for the third time. "When have you _ever_ been to Harlem?" he asked when he landed, in _that_ tone of voice. "We barely ever go further than Midtown."

"Except when we went to Brooklyn," Raph pointed out, rolling his eyes. "And besides, I don't have to go to Harlem to know that I _don't wanna go to Harlem_. Harlem's a _dump_."

"-_nel Six News, this is Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe _not_ letting the bed-bugs bite, haha. Over to you-_"

"Oh thanks a lot, guys!"

"Dude, why do you care so much?" Mikey asked, flipping the channel, and Donnie shifted uncomfortably, still acting, Raph thought, like he had something stuck up his shell.

"Um." Oh yeah. Raph knew that voice. "Remember last week when I got home late? I kind-of... I got into a fight."

"You _what_?" Leo stared. "Donnie, why didn't you say anything? Someone saw you!?"

Shifting uncomfortably, the turtle in question muttered, "Not _quite_..." and when Leo gave him a terse look, relented. "Okay look it was when I was coming back from April's last week. I saw this guy pass out in an alley and went to go see if he was okay."

April had folded her arms, looking about as mommy as Leo did. "And?"

"_And_, he... kinda triedtotakeabiteoutofme. But I just thought it was some crazy I mean, this is _New York_! But that's the fourth time this week there's been stuff about bitings in the city. They were talking about a group in Central Park a couple of days ago. _I_ didn't get bit," he added. "He got my bo."

Leo nodded his head towards the dojo. "Go get it; let's take a look."

As he sloped off, Raph shot a significant look to Leo, his hand drifting to the long-healed bruise on his arm. "Donnie's just been Donnie this week, right?"

"If not," Leo replied, glancing to Mikey and meeting his youngest brother's determined face with a nod. "he's already got a stockpile of the antidote from the last time, and Mikey knows how to do it. Right?"

"The wasp thing?" April asked, frowning when Leo nodded tersely.

"Hopefully it's not that. Donnie, show us," he added, raising his voice as Donatello flipped over the water channel, bo in hand.

"Here." He unwrapped the new linen carefully as they all drifted towards him, pointing out the thick teeth marks that had sunk into the wood. "I mean, the guy was clearly _nuts_, but all he did was chew on my staff for a few seconds."

April choked, quickly turning it into a throat-clearing, and Raph couldn't help the smirk that cut across his face. He elbowed her gently.

"Duuuuude," Mikey breathed, peering closer at _Donnie's staff_. "Imagine if that had been your _face_."

"No. Leave my _face _out of it. Leo?" Donnie asked, looking over at his brother. Leo was frowning, hand drifting up to rub his knuckles into his chin.

"It was just one guy, right, Donnie?"

Donatello shifted, his posture shrinking into something Raph didn't like. "...well, yeah. I'm not an idiot. But if it's not just happening to me, then maybe it's something we should take a look at."

"Just sounds like New York to me," Raph muttered, and April nodded.

"I hate to admit it, but that actually sounds pretty tame. There's a lot of homeless people, and a lot of them have pretty big issues."

Leo beamed. "See? Nothing to worry about. You were just unlucky."

"_Or _it's the zombie apocalypse- _hey_!"

Raph shifted, uncomfortable with the brooding atmosphere that had suddenly cropped up over Donnie fighting a _whackjob_, and hooked a hand around Mikey's head. "Well, if it's brains they're after, Mikey'll be-"

"'Mikey'll be just fine'?" Mikey ducked his head and then headbutted him in the bicep. "Dude, I told you, you're getting predictable." I'm serious! People _biting_ people? That's totally the start of like EVERY zombie movie."

"Yeah, it wasn't zombies with the crazy wasps, and it wasn't zombies with the stealing stuff," Raph shot back, "so I'm gonna take a big guess here and say it's not zombies now."

Leo frowned, raising a hand before Mikey could jump on Raph's head. "Okay, look. We take April home, then when we're on patrol we can take a look, how does that sound?"

Raph heaved a sigh and cracked his neck. "Yeaaaah sure. Why not. It's not like we'll actually find anything."

* * *

Donnie led them the same way home that he'd taken those few nights previous. Three streets away from where the last guy had been, he stopped, and pointed down.

Two shambling forms shuffled down the alley behind the fortune cookie factory. Leo ducked low, signalling to the others to approach, then pointed silently down. The guys in the alley stopped, leaned in close as though talking, and then began to raid behind a dumpster.

"Ew," Raph whispered quietly; one of them had produced something that, from four storeys up, looked soft and wet in the meagre streetlight. "what is that, chicken?"

Donnie peered closer, and then made a soft noise. He clapped his hand over his mouth."...no," he said softly, his voice thick and strained as he turned quickly away. "No, that's... that's not chicken, it-"

"Looks like a big lump of General Tso's," Mikey added, oblivious as Donnie retched behind him, and Leo stared in dawning horror as the two guys started hauling out something else from behind the dumpster, one of them yanking on something that looked far too much like a human leg for Leo to be comfortable.

"Aw what the-" Raph spat, rearing back. "Is that a _body_!?"

_There are things up there that you have not been trained to fight, Leonardo_, he remembered Splinter saying once, during a talk about Xever, but he had never imagined something like this. "Guys, _fall back_," he hissed, swords out to block anyone from storming down there with weapons drawn. "This is not- we are NOT dealing with this without Sensei's say-so."

Donnie coughed wetly behind them. "Yeah, I'm okay with that."

* * *

-tbc-


End file.
